


You're not the only one with saltwater lungs

by Mouse (clandestineAbattoir)



Series: The Plight of Drowned Men [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drowning used as a metaphor for love, M/M, description of drowning, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 15:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20744108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineAbattoir/pseuds/Mouse
Summary: A sequel to "I would drown for you i had to". Has a little bit more of a happy ending.





	You're not the only one with saltwater lungs

It is week before Duck finds you again.

It is a week you spend in agony. You thought that getting away from him would make the water in your lungs evaporate, but it has just made them hurt more. You get water up your nose whenever you lay down. You try to drink something, anything so that there is something filling the aching hollow of your stomach that isn’t days old saltwater, but everything you try just tastes like the ocean. There is no escaping the ocean. Part of you doesn’t want to let go of that feeling of forever.

You are laying on the uncomfortable couch of your Winnebago, too focused on the way the burn of the water in your lungs reminds you that you were never meant to love him like that when he knocks. It startles you out of your half sleep (you have not slept. How could a drowning man find rest like that? How could you be deserving of rest like that?), and you hear his voice, calling out to you. 

“‘Drid?”

He sounds tentative. His voice is raw. You think that he has been crying. The futures tell you that you are right. You are pulled towards the door in a tidal wave, the sea picking you up and depositing you into his arms like you weighed nothing. He is holding you. Even after you fled, he still holds you like the most precious seashells on the shore. You don’t understand why. You open your mouth to ask, but he puts his strong hand on the back of your head and holds you his chest, and you splutter on the water that comes out of your mouth. He smells like the ocean that resides within him.

He asks you what he did wrong. You cough on water in your surprise. How do you explain to him that he is an ocean and you are drowning in him. Your knees are weak. The water is weighing down your clothes. You pull him to the couch. The ache in your lungs has dulled, just a little. There is a storm brewing inside of you. You tell him that you are a tsunami waiting to happen. He tells you that the tsunami has been happening since the day he met you. You clench his shirt in your fists and start heaving seawater. He rubs your back. You manage, between the waves of water forcing their way out of you, to say sorry. He tells you to stop being ridiculous. He would drown in a million tsunamis, die an infinite amount of watery deaths, if he got to hold you for just a little longer. 

You sob. You tell him how selfish you are for wanting to flee because of the drowning feeling in your lungs. Your voice is raw from all the ocean water your body has been trying to get rid of. He repeats that you’re being ridiculous. If you want him to leave, he will. You tell him that leaving didn’t get the salt water out of your lungs. You also call him a hypocrite.

He suggests that you both drown together. He also suggests you both take swimming classes. You have never been happier to be a drowned man.


End file.
